The Soul Collector
by bhoney
Summary: When a hunt goes wrong and Dean is taken, Sam is faced with an unimaginable choice between the family he’s lost and the family he never got to have. Set mid season 3.
1. An Unimaginable Choice

_I've been working on this story for about nine months now and it's truly been a labor of love. I really hope you'll let me know what you think of this first chapter. _

_Huge thanks go out to the wonderful people who've patiently listened and let me bounce ideas off them: Amanda, Seth, Stephen, adder574, Dianna, and bayre. Thanks to everyone else who's offered support and encouragement._

_For those reading "Thanksgiving, Winchester Style or, The Importance of Pie," the next chapter should go up within the week._

**The Soul Collector**

**Chapter 1: An Unimaginable Choice**

"Ah, Sammy, Sammy, Sammy..." the soul collector shook his head, putting on an air of studied disappointment.

"_You_ don't get to call me that," Sam growled, grip tightening on the handle of his curved blade as he stared down the powerful demon in front of him.

"Alright, alright!" the demon held up his hands in a placating gesture. "Fair enough, _Sam_ then. Don't be so short-sighted about this." He sounded like the mid-level executive he resembled, as if trying to be tactful while advising his underling not to make a stupid decision. The condescension in his voice had Sam gritting his teeth.

"Short-sighted? What are you talking about?" Sam snapped, impatient. All he wanted was to get to Dean. He needed to see for himself that his brother was all right.

"Just think through your options there, champ. You want Dean, fine, he's yours." It was said nonchalantly, like Sam hadn't just had to go through Hell—literally—to get to this point. "But is it worth what you'd be giving up?" he provoked.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked warily. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear whatever the demon was about to say. He just wanted to get his brother and get out of there, once and for all. Unfortunately, it looked like he'd have to keep playing the demon's game for the time being, since he still didn't know precisely where his brother was being held. But his patience wasn't going to last much longer. It had been too many days without sleep, without peace, without _Dean._ Agonizing, desperation-filled days, and Sam was ready to snap. Frankly, he thought it was a miracle he hadn't already.

Tired beyond measure of the game they'd been playing, Sam nonetheless tuned back in dutifully. He'd do whatever it took to get his brother back, even if it meant listening to monologuing demons. Dean had _so_ better appreciate this.

"Dean's going to be gone in a few months, Sam. He's going to Hell and there's nothing you can do to stop it." The demon's tone was matter-of-fact and he held up a hand to cut off Sam's automatic denial. "But you _can_ still save the others," he raised his eyebrows as he put out the bait. He'd hoped it wouldn't come to this, but...well, he did have a bounty he still hoped to collect.

"Others? What do you mean _others__?_" Sam asked mistrustfully, adding a glare for good measure.

"You know, Sam. Your mom. Your dad." The demon gave a dramatic pause. "Pretty little Jessica," his voice drew out her name just a little, caressing it.

Sam's hands clenched into fists and his teeth ground together so hard he expected to hear a crack any minute. His voice lowered dangerously, "Leave them out of this."

" 'Fraid I can't do that, Sammy." At Sam's growl the demon amended, "I mean _Sam__._" He offered a falsely conciliatory smile. "Hey, I'm just trying to help you out."

"Yeah, I'm sure," Sam scoffed.

"Sam, I'm hurt. Here I am, offering you the chance to save your _parents__,_ the _love_ of your _life__,_ and you're doubting my motives?" The demon shook his head sadly, "I've gotta say, not very grateful of you, Sam."

Sam faltered, knowing he shouldn't ask, knowing it was a trick, but he just couldn't let it go. The desperate thirst for answers had always been his weakness and this time was no exception. The words were pulled from him as if by an irresistible force, "What do you mean, save them?"

The demon smiled, pleased Sam had taken the bait. "Well, it's simple, Sam. You won the wager fair and square. _Unfortunately._ You beat me." He shrugged, as if the rest should be self-explanatory. "That entitles you to one soul. One loved one returned to you. But it doesn't have to be _Dean__._ It could be _anyone._ Just think of the possibilities, Sam. You could know the mother you don't even remember." He snapped his fingers and Sam's mom appeared, wearing the white nightgown she'd been in when he'd last seen her, hair curling gently around her shoulders, eyes soft and filled with love. Sam knew it had to be a mirage, a projection, a hallucination even—_something _not-really-her—but he still couldn't tear his eyes away.

"Haven't you always wished for a mother?" the demon continued softly, cajoling. "Wanted to be just like everyone else? Wouldn't it be nice to have someone to watch out for you…someone to comfort you when you're upset, take care of you when you're sick? Someone to love you unconditionally?" he paused, letting his words sink in. "You need your mom, Sam. It's okay to need her—every boy should have a mother to love him unconditionally." The look he fixed on Sam was ostensibly understanding, sympathetic. Sam didn't even notice. He was too transfixed by the vision of his mom, too off-balance by this unexpected turn of events.

"But…" Sam stuttered, stunned, "but she's dead."

"Try to keep _up__,_ Sam," the demon's voice hardened noticeably. "She doesn't _have_ to be. You could have her back." He went back to cajoling, "Or what about your father?"

Another snap of the fingers and the image of Sam's mom was replaced with that of John Winchester, standing tall and straight in his trademark jacket and jeans. Only this was the softer, smiling John from the cemetery in Wyoming, watching Sam with the same look of love and pride he'd worn that not-so-long-ago night. It brought a lump to Sam's throat. He'd never thought to see that look again. Or ever, really, if it came down to that. It had caught him off-guard that spring day, because he couldn't remember his dad ever looking at him like that before, though now he suspected that was more because he hadn't been paying attention than because John had never felt those emotions. Still, Sam's throat tightened so painfully at seeing that look now—months removed from the cowboy cemetery and a lifetime removed from when his dad had been alive and part of his life—that he wondered briefly if he would be able to continue drawing air.

Sam's reaction didn't go unnoticed and the demon continued his sales pitch, voice smoothly persuasive. Seductive. "You have _so_ many regrets about the way you left things with him, don't you, Sam? You never got to have the relationship with him that you wanted. But it wouldn't be that way this time. You could have a second chance with him. A young man needs his father, Sam—someone to look up to, to show him how to be a man. Wouldn't it be nice to have someone to help with the hard decisions, for someone to have your back? Your dad was always too busy for that, wasn't he? But you could have that now. It could all be different this time."

Sam shook his head numbly, "But how…?"

Another snap. _Jessica._

Sam felt his breath stop completely. There she was in front of him, close enough to touch, and it had been _so long._ She stood in a flowered sundress, vivid white against her tanned skin, with blond hair waving wildly around her shoulders and big blue eyes wide with _hope_ and _expectation_ and _innocence._ Sam had always been drawn to those things in her. Her lips were as full and red as ever and Sam couldn't help but think of the first time they'd ever kissed. Her lips had been like the rest of her—soft and sweet. Those were the words he'd always thought best described her. But she'd been so many other things, too: incredibly smart, occasionally snarky, always supportive, and unbelievably sexy. Sam cursed himself as he felt his eyes begin to burn with tears that threatened to obscure his view of her.

"Jess…" he took an automatic step toward her before he stopped himself. He didn't move or speak again; he was completely mesmerized by the sight of her. His vocal cords seemed to be paralyzed and he could feel the fingers that still gripped the curved blade begin to tingle and go numb. But still he couldn't take his eyes off her. He knew it wasn't really her, _couldn't_ _be her,_ and yet…he could smell the wildly floral fragrance of the shampoo she'd always used, could see the familiar light that came into her eyes as she smiled at him. And he wanted to pull her into his arms, to feel her there again, just one more time. He wanted that more than he wanted to keep breathing.

The demon noticed and smiled. He'd saved the best for last—if this didn't make the kid forget all about his brother, nothing would. "And what about Jessica? She's the one you really want, Sam. Who could blame you? Beautiful, smart, classy. Mmmm…I could eat her up with a spoon." He gave an affected shiver before continuing, his voice coaxing, "But she was more than that to you, Sam, wasn't she? She was somewhere to belong. With her you didn't feel so much like a _freak__._" He let the word hang in the air for a moment, before continuing, "She listened to you, supported you. She was more than a girlfriend; she was your best friend. Everyone needs a best friend, Sam, and wouldn't it be nice to have somewhere to belong? Someone who was always there for you, who'd stand by you no matter what?" Another pause as he let those words sink in. "Sam? Don't you want that again?" he prodded.

The soul collector snapped his fingers again and all three of them were there before Sam, looking at him expectantly. "You could have it, Sam," he urged. "Anyone you choose, it's up to you. What's it going to be? Mother, father, best friend? Choose carefully because it's a one-time offer, Sam. No changing your mind later," he finished smoothly.

Sam stood, stunned at the choice before him. It had never occurred to him…the possibility of _this_ had never even crossed his mind. And now…he was paralyzed. How did you choose between the people you loved when you wanted—_needed_—all of them? His mind felt hazy with shock and maybe…something else…it seemed like there was something important he should be remembering but his brain felt frozen, unable to get past the fact that he was seeing _these_ people in _this_ place, was being given an impossible choice.

If it really was a choice at all.

"No," he managed to protest weakly. "This is a trick. You're trying to trick me. Either you can't really get to their souls, or…or you'll bring them back but it won't really be _them._" By the end, his voice had regained its strength and he glared fiercely at the demon, tightening his grip on the handle of the curved blade to anchor himself with its reassuring weight.

"Sam, I'm hurt that you think so little of me," the demon looked at him reproachfully. "Not that I'm above cheating if I can get away with it…" he pointed to himself, "demon, remember? But it's a binding contract. I'll follow through on my end—give you one loved one back: alive, in the flesh, just as they were. I have to honor the terms, Sam. I'm _bound__._" He let a little bitterness seep through on the last word and his expression showed how distasteful he found the situation to be. That convinced Sam like nothing else had so far, but still, he had to be sure…

"And you could really do that—really bring one of them back?" Sam persisted. "Whoever I choose, you'll give them back to me…no hidden clauses, no loopholes, no fine print?" Sam sounded every bit the lawyer he'd once intended to be. "I'll get them free and clear, _no tricks?_" his voice was lethal, making it clear that there would be Hell to pay—literally—if the demon tried to pull one over on him.

"I'm starting to get insulted here, Sam." There was definite annoyance in the demon's tone now, "_Yes._ Whoever you choose, one soul, yours for the taking, yada yada yada," he gestured impatiently with his hand for Sam to get on with it. "Make your choice, Sam. What's it going to be? Who do you need the most?"

Sam took in the figures before him. They represented so much. His parents, in one way or another, had shaped who he was. They were his past. He recalled long-forgotten daydreams of a young mind, fantasies of the life he could've had with them if things had been different. And then he thought of much nearer and dearer dreams, of the life that should've been his with Jess. He missed them all with an ache that was almost beyond bearing. How could he pick just one?

His mom had given him life, but he'd never gotten to know her. His dad had trained him to be strong, a soldier, but in some ways he felt he'd never known him either. He could have a second chance with them. And Jess…his chest tightened at the thought of her. She'd been his future, his chance at the life he'd always dreamed of—a _normal_ life, away from the horrors he'd been raised to fight. Losing that life, losing _her,_ had nearly killed him. How could he _not_ choose her?

Sam's eyes burned as he stared at his loved ones, trying to imprint their faces on his memory, to hold on to all of them for just a little longer. Trying to figure out how he went on from this moment. Tears blurred their figures until they were just soft shapes that blended at the edges. _How did he choose? _He didn't know how to _do this,_ didn't know how to make a choice like this and not stop breathing. His heart felt like it was being ripped apart and his chest ached from the pressure there, but he bit back the sob that wanted to escape, not willing to show weakness before the demon watching him. He forced back the tears that had gathered in his eyes, wanting one last clear look at all of them before he made his choice.

Words circled in his mind, swirling like an emotional hurricane. They repeated over and over, reverberating in his ears: _**mother**__… comforter… protector…__** father**__… hero… mentor…__** best **__**friend**__… partner… champion… mother…__** comforter**__… protector… father… __**hero**__… mentor… best friend… __**partner**__… champion… mother… comforter…__** protector**__… father… hero… __**mentor**__… best friend… partner… __**champion**__…_ And behind all of them, the soft resonance of _love…safety…belonging._ Images began to flash through Sam's mind, echoing with each word. He felt a deep peace blanket him, quieting the maelstrom and soothing his aching heart. And he knew what his choice had to be.

He took a deep breath, stepped forward, and said the only word he could.


	2. A Hinky Hunt

_I'm SO sorry it's taken me so long to get back to updating this story. Life exploded on me, and I got really behind on everything. But now that the last chapter of "Always With You" is up, I'll be updating this regularly again. I apologize for the delay. Thanks for all of the gentle nudges.  
_

_As promised, a special shout-out goes to those amazing readers who found the "easter eggs" I planted in the Thanksgiving series: deangirl1, Miyo86, Scullspeare, and marinawings. Y'all are awesome!_

_This story is set mid-Season 3, after "Red Sky at Morning." _

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_Previously: _

"Dean's going to be gone in a few months, Sam. He's going to Hell and there's nothing you can do to stop it." The demon's tone was matter-of-fact and he held up a hand to cut off Sam's automatic denial. "But you _can_ still save the others," he raised his eyebrows as he put out the bait. He'd hoped it wouldn't come to this, but…well, he did have a bounty he still hoped to collect.

"Others? What do you mean _others__?_" Sam asked mistrustfully, adding a glare for good measure.

"You know, Sam. Your mom. Your dad." The demon gave a dramatic pause. "Pretty little Jessica," his voice drew out her name just a little, caressing it "…it's simple, Sam. You won the wager fair and square. _Unfortunately._ You beat me." He shrugged, as if the rest should be self-explanatory. "That entitles you to one soul. One loved one returned to you. But it doesn't have to be _Dean__._ It could be _anyone…_Make your choice, Sam. What's it going to be? Who do you need the most?"

Words circled in his mind, swirling like an emotional hurricane. They repeated over and over, reverberating in his ears: _**mother**__… comforter… protector… __**father**__… hero… mentor… __**best**__** friend**__… partner… champion… mother… __**comforter**__… protector… father… __**hero**__… mentor… best friend… __**partner**__… champion… mother… comforter… __**protector**__… father… hero… __**mentor**__… best friend… partner… __**champion**__… _And behind all of them, the soft resonance of _love…safety…belonging._ Images began to flash through Sam's mind, echoing with each word. He felt a deep peace blanket him, quieting the maelstrom and soothing his aching heart. And he knew what his choice had to be.

He took a deep breath, stepped forward, and said the only word he could.

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_And now:_

**The Soul Collector**

**Chapter 2: A Hinky Hunt**

_Earlier that week…_

They knew the moment they hit town that something was wrong. It was in the prickling feeling at the back of Dean's neck, the way he kept glancing around to see who was watching them, but could never quite catch anyone. It was in the way Sam kept seeing movement out of the corner of his eye, but when he turned nothing was there. The way neither of them could sleep until they'd salted all the windows and the doors of their motel room and double-checked the lines. _Something_ was after them and it made them both a little twitchy.

Dean was the first to break. "Dude! There is something _seriously_ hinky about this hunt."

Sam sighed. "I know, man. I'd hoped I was just imagining it, but…I don't think so. Something's not right."

Dean moved to peer through a slit in the window curtain, watching for motion in the dark parking lot outside. When he saw nothing, he turned back to his brother. "It feel to you like someone's followin' us?"

"Yeah, seems like it." Sam paused for a moment, then reluctantly continued, "I think it's a demon."

Dean's gaze sharpened. "What?! Why?" The questions came bullet-quick.

"Traces of sulfur on the passenger door of the Impala. Noticed it this afternoon."

"On my _car?!" _Dean growled, outraged. "Whoever it was better not've friggin' messed with my baby, Sam, or an exorcism'll be the _least_ of their worries." He prepared to storm outside, to check her over for himself, but Sam raised a hand to stop him.

"She's fine, Dean. They didn't do anything to the car." Sam resisted the urge to roll his eyes when Dean still looked half ready to bolt out the door. Bela messing around with the Impala was still a little too fresh in Dean's mind for him to take any threat to the classic car lightly. "I checked it out, man, no other sulfur anywhere," Sam hastened to soothe. "I think they were just tryin' to see if we'd left anything inside they could use."

Dean relaxed now that he knew his baby was okay, but vowed to give her a good wash 'n wax ASAP. He didn't want friggin' demon sulfur ruining her paint job. And just what was_ with_ everyone targeting his car lately?! Didn't they know a man's wheels were sacred? He took a calming breath. "So…we've got some demon trailin' us, huh? We sure it's not your little _buddy_?" His disdain for Ruby came through loud and clear.

"She's _not_ my buddy, Dean," Sam responded, a little annoyed. They'd been _over_ this—he was using Ruby for information; that was as far as it went. "And no, it's not her. Why would _she_ need to follow us around? Besides, she's off tryin' to find out who holds your contract, since it wasn't the crossroads demon."

"Right," Dean said, clearly skeptical that _any_ demon could be trusted to help them out, whatever pretty lies they spun. But he didn't feel like arguing the point_—again—_with Sam just now. "So some _other_ demon, then."

"Yeah, but why the stalker act?"

"Cuz we're so awesome?" Dean raised his eyebrows with a cocky grin. "Maybe we got us some demon groupies," he joked. The look Sam gave his brother was _distinctly_ un-amused and Dean quickly arranged his features into a suitably chastised expression. He grew serious. "Right. Well…one way to find out."

"Oh yeah?" Sam raised an eyebrow. "What's that?" he asked warily, almost afraid to hear what Dean had in mind.

"Trap it." Dean smiled smugly, clearly pleased with himself for coming up with such a stellar plan.

"I don't know, Dean," Sam's hesitation was obvious. "We don't even know what we're dealing with here, man. Trying to trap it could be really dangerous." He adopted his _let's be reasonable_ tone, "Maybe we should get some more information first, do some research."

"Ahh, don't be such a girl, Sammy. You're just mad you didn't think of it first."

"Yeah, Dean, _that's_ it," Sam replied sarcastically. "I don't want to go along with your 'great plan' cuz it wasn't my idea. Not cuz it's, ya know, suicidal or anything."

Dean flashed his trademark devil-may-care smile. "Aw, c'mon Sammy, what's the worst that could happen?"

Sam stared for a moment, incredulous that Dean could even _ask_ that question after all they'd been through. His older brother was really taking the kamikaze act too far, and Sam didn't think he could bear much more of it without cracking. He kept hoping Dean would snap out of it, that he wouldn't have to call him on how terrified he clearly was, but instead Dean seemed to grow more and more reckless as time went by, until Sam wanted to growl in frustration. Or maybe deck him. He set that confrontation aside for another day, though, and focused on the matter at hand. "The worst that could happen?" he echoed. "Uh…one of us could _die,_" he pointed out in the tone that clearly said his brother was an idiot. The words had the sobering effect Sam had been going for, but he hadn't counted on the blood draining from Dean's face in a way that instantly concerned him.

Sam's words dropped an iceberg into Dean's heart and sent a chill straight through him. He immediately got a flash of holding his brother's lifeless body on an abandoned street in Cold Oak. He still woke up from nightmares of that time covered in a cold sweat and the effect of the memory now was no less severe.

Sam reached out a hand as if to steady him, but Dean shook the memory away and firmly locked his game face on. He nodded in concession to Sam's point, green eyes determined when he looked back at his younger brother. "You're right, Sam. We should split up. You finish interviewing the witnesses, work the case. I'll set the trap, lure this thing out—see what we're dealin' with."

Sam opened his mouth to protest, but Dean held up his hand to forestall the inevitable argument. "It just makes sense for it to be me, Sam. That way, worst happens…you're safe. And I'm just puppy chow a few months early." Dean shrugged nonchalantly. He saw the dark cloud drop over Sam's face, which had started to flush with anger, so Dean hastened to add, "I'll be careful, Sammy, I will. But I need to know you're safe."

"No." Sam set his jaw, taking on the stubborn look Dean knew all too well. It would be easier to move Mount Everest than to change Sammy's mind when he looked like that. Still, he had to try.

"No?" Dean scoffed. "Whaddya mean, _no_?" he tried for a lighter tone, hoping to cajole Sam out of his sudden temper.

"Just—_no,_ Dean. No _way_ am I splitting up when we have something tailing us!" Sam scowled and spread his arms wide in frustration. "We don't even know what we're dealing with here, man."

"Exactly!" Dean jumped on the last part with relish. "Which is why you should—"

"No! We're in this_ together, _Dean," Sam gritted out, though his jaw was clenched so tightly Dean didn't know how the words had even managed to slip through. He watched in fascination as a muscle began to tic in his little brother's jaw. He just didn't see why Sammy was getting so worked up about this. He opened his mouth to say something to that effect, but Sam cut him off with a glare. "Where _you_ go, _I_ go. What happens to _you_ happens to _both. of. us_." Sam stared at his big brother intently as he said the words, hoping that, just this once, the truth of that would penetrate Dean's thick skull.

Unexpectedly, Sam's anger vanished, leaving just despair at the thought of the months ahead of them, of having this battle over and over again. Would Dean _ever_ get how important he was to Sam? His voice dropped to a near whisper, "I just wish you'd remember that, man."

"I do!" Dean protested, then softened at the look of anguish in his little brother's eyes. "I do, Sammy," he reiterated, voice soft but sincere. He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, not able to meet Sam's gaze. "I just…this is what I do man, y'know?" he shrugged, looking helpless. "Look after you, worry about you…I don't know any other way to be."

"Yeah, well—cut it _out_!" Sam responded heatedly. He saw the hurt cross his brother's face and let out a sigh, slumping a little. It wasn't fair to get mad at Dean, it really _was_ the only way he knew how to be. Sam knew that better than anyone. He took a deep breath and deliberately softened his tone, "Or, at least—realize I feel the same, Dean." He turned pleading eyes on his brother, refusing to let him look away. This was too important. "You're not the only one that worries about his brother, man."

Dean looked decidedly uncomfortable at the idea of Sam worrying about him but he capitulated, the way he always did when faced with his little brother's need. "Okay. We'll do this smart, then…set up protection, summon the thing right where we want it. It'll be trapped—we'll find out what we need to know, then waste the thing."

Sam was still reluctant. "What about the case?"

"I'm starting to wonder if there _is_ a case, Sammy." Dean looked at him meaningfully, "Could be the whole thing was a setup to get us here."

Sam startled at that. "Y'think?"

Dean's face was grimly resolute, "Only one way to find out."


End file.
